Chiropterophilia
by CreativeKiss
Summary: Batman is famous for striking fear into the hearts of criminals - until the day he meets Vi, a high school student who is victimized, not with fear, but with obsession. Her psychiatrist is obsessed with her condition; a madman is obsessed with her status; and she is obsessed with her rescuer, the Dark Knight.
1. The Asylum With the Billion-Dollar View

**CHAPTER ONE: THE ASLYUM WITH THE BILLION-DOLLAR VIEW**

Bruce Wayne reclined lazily in his chair, contemplating the juggling of responsibilities. The warm mist of sunshine traveled through the window panes and filled the expanse of his office, casting early-morning shadows. Such an obvious contrast of light and dark. His life was divided between cumbersome work as the head of a billion-dollar company, the recreation of a playboy with too much money, and the crusades of a nocturnal symbol of justice - the Batman. He was sleep deprived and scarred, and as he stared vengefully at the business proposal the board would be discussing in the weekly meeting that afternoon, he longed for retreat. Sometimes he found that confronting potentially fatal danger and psychopathic villains was less intimidating to him than towers of paperwork and numbers that were either too big or too small (never just right).

Bruce found it difficult to separate his night and day, and at present was especially consumed with thoughts of the Joker. He had had an altercation with his clowns only a week ago, and he had not had the opportunity to follow up on the case. His mind had the events on repeat, and he picked them apart with hunger, trying to make sense of them. In pursuit of a dark-haired teenager, the clowns had gotten more than they had bargained for when the girl turned a makeshift flamethrower on them in self-defense. Even after such a dramatic display of bravery and craft, she was immediately frightened unconscious by Batman's sudden arrival to rescue her. He had not understood then (and still did not) how he might terrify her more than a gang of gun-wielding clowns, but he had turned her over safely to the police before she had come to. He could not interrogate her as to the Joker's interest in her, but instead was left to analyze only what he saw and make inferences.

Two purses had been lying on the ground, the contents of both scattered about the asphalt. He had not checked either for wallets, but he could assume that only one belonged to the girl he had met, and the other to someone else. The girl had a companion, but where had she disappeared to? The clowns must have had a reason to attack the girls, but that reason was unknown. They were never going to confess to the police; the Joker's reign of terror had the strength necessary to reach them even in prison. The missing girl had been in flight, and had been terrified enough to leave behind not only her possessions but her friend. It did not appear that anyone had separated from the group to pursue her, so it was logical to conclude that the girl remaining was the clowns' sole target. But what did they want from her?

A light knock propelled Bruce out of his reclining position and onto his feet, roughly startled from his thoughts. He snatched up the proposal with one hand and began thumbing through it with mild interest. In truth, he did not have to so forcefully appear occupied, but he was trying not to give away his obvious distraction from work.

"Come in," he called, scratching behind his ear. He paced the floor near his desk, not traveling far, and did not look up as the door noiselessly opened.

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupted. Bruce's eyes slowly lifted off of the page to meet the face of the young woman come to visit him. She had only peeked her head through the doorway, her body concealed, but Gotham's prince immediately recognized her. What a unique coincidence that the girl he had rescued seven days prior had come to Wayne Tower to see him. With his experience as the Batman, Bruce had learned to severely doubt even the most innocent of coincidences, and this one was no exception. However, had no issue pretending he had never seen this girl before.

Eyebrow raised in mild curiosity, he asked, "How can I help you?" The girl stood up straight and stepped through the doorway, revealing her slender but womanly frame in a black pencil skirt and blazer. She was wearing high heels now, but he distinctly remembered her being short, 5'3" at the most. The contrast between the unconscious teenager in her school uniform and the young adult before him was stark enough to draw anyone's attention. Her innocent face gave away her youth but she was dressed very maturely now - attractively, even. Obviously she was desirous of something. Bruce cleared his throat impatiently, and the girl's brown eyes flicked up and met his boldly.

"I'm Violette, the daughter of Victor Larson," she introduced herself. "You recently hired my father to the board." Bruce did recognize the name and nodded.

"And how can I help Miss Violette?" he asked again, taking his seat. "You know, if you're looking for your father-"

"No sir, I'm here to see you," Violette insisted. "My father suggested I petition for an internship at Wayne Enterprises." Bruce sighed, somewhat perturbed. It was most irregular for anyone to approach a CEO directly for something so ordinary as an internship. Who let her through?

"I have no problem, but I'll have to refer you to Mr. Lucius Fox," he told her. "He can find a place for you."

"Actually Mr. Wayne, I've already spoken with Mr. Fox," Violette explained. "He sent me to you because I told him it was a bad idea... which it is. A bad idea, I mean." Bruce frowned, but then found himself unable to withhold his smile. Soon, he was chuckling.

"Why don't you have a seat, Miss Violette," he suggested, gesturing to the chair across from him. The young woman again complied, at last stepping away from the door to cross the spacious office and sit down.

Her body stiffened as she mumbled, "I prefer Vi, actually."

"Fair. Vi, do you want this internship or not?" Bruce asked bluntly. Never before had an applicant approached him for a job while simultaneously discouraging his being hired. He was openly amused.

"I..." Vi hesitated, calculating her response. "I think it would be a wonderful opportunity, Mr. Wayne. At the moment though, I'm having a very difficult time in my personal life and am overwhelmed by many things."

"Many things?" Bruce pressed. "Such as school, perhaps?"

"Yes, I'm finishing up high school now. Plus I'm applying to universities-"

"In state?"

"That is my personal preference, yes, but I've applied to many schools all over the country."

"How are your grades?" Vi opened her mouth immediately to reply, but hesitated and averted her gaze.

"They are good," she muttered.

"Are you being modest, or...?"

"Yes, sir." Bruce nodded. He was impressed enough. "I was going to bring you my references but Mr. Fox-"

"I'm not particularly interested," Bruce interrupted. Vi pushed her glasses back up her nose bridge and sighed. Her eyes - even behind her glasses Bruce could see she was almost embarrassed by some invisible malady or limitation. "What is 'many things'?"

"I'm not... really at liberty to talk about it, Mr. Wayne," Vi told him politely. "I just don't think I can commit to another responsibility with how distracted I've been. And my father is making it worse."

"Why bother coming here then?"

"If I didn't try here, my father would just put me someplace else. He wants to keep me busy, and he wants me under constant supervision."

"Are you... afraid of something?" He was trying to ask the right questions without at all alluding to any foreknowledge of the attack. Vi calmly shook her head.

"Not at all."

"What is Mr. Larson afraid of then?" Bruce propped his elbows up on his desk and his expression softened. "Our conversation will be strictly confidential. I'm only interested in helping you, so at least give me a general synopsis. I won't push." Vi bit her lip nervously.

"Promise?"

"Of course."

After more trepidation, Vi began, "Everyone is talking about the Batman and all the good he's doing for Gotham. I can't say I know what to believe, but... I saw him. A week ago." She removed her glasses and sighed, relaxing in her chair somewhat. She appeared terribly embarrassed to admit this.

"Since I've seen him, I can't stop drawing bats... on everything. My father thinks that the Batman must have hurt me somehow and made me this way but I... I don't think that he did." Bruce adopted the cynical attitude he reserved for conversations about his alter-ego, and he smoothed his hair with his hand.

"Well, he _is_ a lawless vigilante," he offered sympathetically. "Do you think that your father's concerns are totally baseless?"

"I don't know," Vi admitted. "I'm not even sure I care. The police have told my father a hundred times that they are already required to arrest him on sight, that until they find him they can't possibly do anything about it."

"Violette-"

"What do you think about the Batman?" Bruce shrugged.

"It seems to me like your health ought to be more important than whether or not the police apprehend the Batman," he told her.

The two remained silent for a long time, Vi relaxing more and more in her chair with the exception of one nervous tick, the wringing of her hands. Bruce followed Vi's gaze to the pen and legal pad sitting on his desk, and he instantly understood. The bats. Vi's desire to draw them was affecting her even now as she sat in an interview with one of the most influential figures in Gotham. He absently pushed the pen and paper in her direction and continued pondering her case as she snatched up the writing instrument and began doodling. Her response was very much like an addict's response to his drug of choice; the need was subconscious and insatiable. Occasionally, Vi glanced up at him as he blatantly observed her, but her focus lay primarily with her bats.

Bruce's fascination with Violette Larson was so undeniable he did not bother attempting to conceal it. He already knew quite plainly that he liked this girl. Even consumed with nervousness and embarrassment, she forced herself to be straightforward; the embodiment of true courage. On the other hand, Bruce was concerned about the actions Victor Larson might take against Batman for victimizing his daughter with such a distinct obsession. And he could not forget the fact that the clowns had attacked her and may very well be planning another attempt as the two of them sat together in his office. He wanted Vi safe, but he also wanted to know what her appeal might be to the Joker.

"Well, Miss Violette, you will report here every afternoon immediately following school hours, and on Saturdays I shall see you at 8am," he announced at last. Vi dropped her pen and sat up, her stare wide with incredulity.

"What? I... I thought- What will I be doing?" she demanded, her voice at last fluctuating with emotion. She was obviously flustered.

"You have been granted asylum," Bruce told her with a devilish grin. The teenager's eyes softened, and soon a smile shined through them though her lips never parted. "Draw as many bats as you'd like, just keep them off the walls and furniture, okay?" The teenager looked down into her lap where she hid her bats from view. She stared at them longingly until her eyes narrowed at the realization of something.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, but you called me-"

"I know, you prefer Vi. In that case, you'll have to call me Bruce."

"I can't possibly-" Vi protested.

"You're in a safe place," Bruce encouraged. "That's what an asylum is, isn't it? In this office, call me Bruce." The girl nodded. She appeared relieved and much less intimidated. She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, revealing more of her face to him, and her eyes met his with growing confidence.

"So I'm your assistant?"

"Whatever." Bruce shrugged nonchalantly. He picked a lint fiber off of his suit and checked the time. The meeting was scheduled to begin in just a half-hour, and he wanted to meet with Lucius beforehand.

He stood, and in doing so got a better look at Vi's bats. They were drawn with talent, some incredibly realistic, and others were simple silhouettes identical to Batman's symbol. Vi blushed red and clutched the legal pad to her chest, returning her glasses to her face. Bruce smiled at her.

"Have fun with those," he joked. "And uh, don't... mess with anything." Vi frowned at the mischief in his eyes. Was he... flirting with her?

"You sound like you want me to go through your things." Bruce only winked and closed the door behind him on his way out.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't think I would have to address this right away (but apparently it's necessary?): This isn't a love story.**


	2. The Dark Side of the Moon

**CHAPTER TWO: THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON**

The Joker's ironic smile beamed up at Bruce from the newspaper in his hands, and the billionaire was overwhelmed with disgust. He tried to make sense of such indiscriminate brutality and he could not, but perhaps that was a good thing. If he suddenly understood the sadistic mind of a criminal, would he not learn how to rationalize crime? Would he begin to justify their wicked deeds or feel some sort of misplaced sympathy? No, he could not understand why men thrived on injustice, and that distinctly separated him from them. A fine line was drawn between sanity and insanity, good and evil. As much as he could avoid it, Bruce decided he did not want to know why it was that the Joker did what he did. And even if he one day learned the reason, he did not want to appreciate it.

He sat back cozily in his lounge chair and stared out the window into the lush green around his home in the Palisades. He did not have any meetings that day, and in light of the fact that he had recently made himself responsible for the welfare of a teenage girl, he figured he ought to slow down in between his babysitting hours and attempt to enjoy Wayne Manor for a change. The Joker was taking baby steps now which led Bruce to believe he was planning something big, so he could not afford to burn himself out over trivial things like paperwork. And he still needed to figure out how exactly Vi fit into the Joker's plan.

"It's nice to see you taking a morning off, Master Wayne," Alfred commented happily as he set a snack-tray down on an end table. Bruce glanced over at the tray's contents: granny smith apple slices, a wedge of brie, and light crackers, as well as another one of Alfred's bizarre (and luminously green) concoctions. He rose an eyebrow.

"No wine?" The kindly butler hesitated, unsure of whether or not Bruce was totally serious, but ultimately found he didn't care one way or the other. "I'm not going to turn into a Ninja Turtle if I drink this, am I?"

"I'm thinking you ought to be sober looking after a pretty little thing like Miss Violette," Alfred taunted. "And no you will not turn into a bloody Ninja Turtle! It's spirulina." His master frowned while scratching lightly at a scar on his bicep.

"Who said she was pretty?"

"You did just now, sir," Alfred said, winking and taking a seat in an adjacent chair. "Now, what exactly is our plan and purpose with this girl?" Bruce chuckled and buried his face in his hands.

"She's a teenager, Alfred," he said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Let's be realistic here."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Alfred agreed. "I only thought I'd mention it because I looked her family up and saw her picture. Her father is a wise one to keep her supervised." Bruce could hardly believe they were having this conversation.

"Are you getting somewhere with this, Alfred?"

"Yes, sir. It's not you I'm worried about. Even if you keep a clear head about the matter, other people will question your locking her away in your office every day after school."

"I guess we ought to start our own rumors before the press gets their chance," Bruce said. Alfred chuckled, albeit nervously.

"Very good, Master Wayne." He glanced down at the newspaper thoughtfully, and gestured to it. "Now what do you suppose you'll do about him?" Bruce looked up from the menacing depiction and licked his lips contemplatively.

"He's after Vi, so let's just keep an eye on her and wait for him to come to us."

* * *

Bruce and Alfred both watched the entrance to the Gotham City Advancement Academy, waiting for the doors to burst open and release the waves of students freed for the day. It was a little past two-thirty in the afternoon and it was still frigid; fall was not a merciful season in Gotham. Even with the Rolls' heater running, there was a natural discomfort in being out and about in this type of weather, and it made both men rather impatient.

When the school bell did finally ring, the stereotypical mob of anxious students was nowhere to be found. In fact, the campus remained quiet for several minutes, much to the puzzlement of Bruce and his butler. Students did begin to make an appearance at the entrance, but only a few at a time. There was no flood, just a tired leak. _What kind of school is this?_ Bruce wondered, rolling down his window. He hadn't seen Vi yet, but he didn't want to miss her as her taxi service was a surprise.

"Perhaps we might consider a new method, Master Wayne?" Alfred suggested impatiently. Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt and poked his head out of the window. He did catch a young man's attention, a tall blonde of average attractiveness, and he waved the boy over to the vehicle. Up front, Alfred could only shake his head and sit back in his seat. He had been hoping for a more subtle method, but this one should be as effective.

"You wouldn't happen to know a Miss Violette Larson, would you?" The teenager opened his mouth readily to reply, but he started to eye the vehicle skeptically and held his tongue. Bruce got the feeling this kid did know Vi, but was suspicious of the strange man in the Rolls Royce come to fetch her. Gotham's prince had to appreciate the boy's caution. "That's alright. Why don't you find her and tell her that Bruce Wayne is waiting for her in the Rolls." The boy seemed slightly more assured, but still hesitated.

"Uh... do you know how big the campus is?" he asked Bruce somewhat dryly. The billionaire looked up at Alfred in the rearview mirror, then back at the teen. He extended his hand and revealed two twenty-dollar bills.

"There will be more in it for you if you get her here quickly. Thank you." Bruce then sat back in his seat and rolled up the window, dismissing the blonde quite aristocratically. The boy hesitated still, but at last peeled himself away from the curb and started back into the academy to find Vi.

In only a few short minutes, a vast crowd of puzzled and intrigued teenagers gathered about the vehicle. They whispered and pointed and giggled, and it seemed to be that they not only knew who Bruce was, but also whom he was waiting for. He hadn't checked, but Bruce imagined Alfred rolling his eyes, or his face distorted with irritation. He knew Alfred well enough. In truth though, Bruce had hoped to call a little attention to himself. He figured that if they were up front and open about their alliance, people would have less room for gossiping, and nobody could "discover" them. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and his goal was to ensure that everyone knew this… mostly for Vi's sake. She was young and had enough problems.

At last, Vi came dashing out of the school's main building, obviously flustered. She had changed out of her school uniform and was dressed in black, pinstripe slacks today, and she hurriedly tried to put on her blazer as she ran up to the car. She slowed her pace once she realized that the small crowd had in fact come to see her get into the luxury vehicle of Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. Cluster by cluster, her peers began to notice her and turned to stare as she tried to finish dressing herself. She could hardly believe this was happening to her. She got one arm into one sleeve, and then the other while juggling her bag, and then she buttoned the gray blazer up the front. Her pace slowed even more, and Bruce resisted rushing her. He could feel her discomfort even from the safety of the car.

"Vi!" a girl called, racing up to the crowd. She took hold of Vi's arm to restrain her, and Vi did stop walking but snatched her arm away, giving the girl a dirty look. The unnamed girl had wavy red hair and freckles, and she stood evidently taller than Vi did. They certainly seemed to be a pair, but Vi's hostile glare led Bruce to conclude that there was bad blood between them now. Still, he did nothing to rush Vi or interrupt her.

"Leave me alone," Vi said softly. "I have to go to work. I don't have time for this."

"I've been trying to talk to you about-"

"You abandoned me," Vi interrupted coldly. "That's all I remember, and I think that that's all that matters."

"That obviously isn't _all_ you remember! This is important, Vi. Please! What _matters_ is that-"

"No, I don't want to hear it."

"Vi!" the girl shouted as Vi opened the door. Bruce slid over and opened his mouth to inquire, but was interrupted by the girl's persistence. "We need to talk about that night! You could still be-" The door slammed shut. Vi buckled her seatbelt wordlessly and averted her gaze from Bruce's puzzled stare.

"Good afternoon, Miss Violette," Alfred said, trying to warm up the chilly atmosphere in the vehicle. He maneuvered the car through the crowds and finally out of the parking lot, en route to Wayne Tower. Bruce managed to pull his thoughts from his concern to introduce his loyal butler.

"This is Alfred, Vi." Vi looked up at Bruce abruptly, seemingly startled, and looked to the rearview mirror to catch a glance with Alfred.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," she insisted kindly.

"And so that you're aware, he will _never_ call you Vi, so don't bother." Vi smiled and nodded.

"I think that's okay," she muttered. Bruce decided to keep his mouth shut until they reached the asylum and could talk more freely. Vi seemed to appreciate this.

* * *

Vi threw herself down in the chair across from Bruce's and sighed.

"I know, I know," Bruce began, "I embarrassed you. But it wasn't entirely my intention."

"No, I was grateful that you came to get me," Vi insisted, sitting up straight almost immediately. Bruce took his seat and looked into her eyes meaningfully. She averted her gaze again. "I like to walk but... lately I've had a hard time. And anyway, people stare at me all the time now, so it's nothing new…"

"I thought we agreed that you didn't need to be cryptic here," Bruce scolded. Vi did not immediately respond, but leaned over to retrieve her glasses from her bag.

"It's about what happened, of course," she mumbled, placing her glasses on her face and leaning back in her seat again. "I don't feel as safe as I used to."

"Even with your dark hero flying around?" Bruce joked. Vi had already taken to drawing bats on Bruce's legal pad with a spare pencil, and the lead snapped as Vi's grip tensed. Bruce knew immediately that he had struck a nerve, but he didn't hurry to apologize. He knew Vi would explain herself with a little coaxing.

"If this is an asylum, you aren't supposed to mock me."

"Fair enough," Bruce conceded. "You don't think that the Batman attacked you. In that case, did someone else? Perhaps even without your memory, you have an instinctual fear of your unknown attacker." Vi had resumed drawing her bats with a pen, but now dropped this and looked Bruce in the eye. Bruce rose an eyebrow, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response.

"Maybe... that's it." Bruce sat back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling.

He wanted to direct Vi's memory back to clarity and truth without revealing to her all of the truth. He could not in any way convince her that he had been present for the attack. That was to be avoided at all costs. Bruce's mind suddenly veered off to the girl he had seen grab hold of Vi at Gotham City Advancement Academy. Obviously something had happened between those two, and Vi's cold attitude gave Bruce a small suspicion that this mystery girl had been with Vi the night she was attacked by clowns.

"So what's going on between you and your friend?" Vi rolled her eyes.

"Whatever happened that night, Luna abandoned me," she muttered. "It was her fault we were out that late to begin with, and when she got her chance, she left me."

"You're being cryptic," he told her. Vi had retrieved her pen and resumed drawing. While she did, she proceeded to tell Bruce her version of the events that had taken place the night she and her friend had been attacked by the clowns.

"Luna is shamelessly boy-crazy. I mean, she doesn't… She just likes to be where boys are. She's always trying to win them over. It's not... a sexual thing, just..."

"It's okay, Vi. I get it."

"A couple of guys from our school had invited us to a party, and Luna insisted that we go. I hate tagging along to most of the places she insists we visit, but especially high school parties. Without fail, Luna disappears on me, and someone spots me alone and gets grabby. Needless to say, I stormed out of there around 3. It was more surprising that this time Luna actually bothered to notice that I was leaving, and we left together. We made it to the parking garage near campus-"

"You drive?"

"No… Luna's family isn't like my family. They're…ordinary. And I like that. I usually have Luna pick me up in the morning to take me to school. I don't like riding in Lamborghinis and…" Vi trailed off, realizing how ungrateful she must appear having been picked up from school in a luxury vehicle by Bruce and Alfred that very day. "I didn't mean-"

"Continue, please."

Vi had no qualms picking up precisely where she had left off. "Luna had blinked her lashes to ride to the party with some other people. So we had to walk back to the parking garage in the middle of the night, which took us about an hour to begin with, and before we reached the car, these clowns…. Oh my gosh!"

"So you remember?"

"Kind of. There were clowns – I mean real clowns with masks… They attacked us."

"Attacked you? How so?" Bruce asked calmly for clarity.

"I should say that they didn't exactly get around to attacking us because when they approached us, Luna and I took off running," Vi explained. "They chased us though, and one in particular caught up to me and… I think he tackled me to the ground. I reached out for Luna but grabbed her bag instead… I remember it sliding off her shoulder and then I… I don't know. The police couldn't quite figure out what had happened, but they reported no signs of her in the area. Apart from the contents of her purse, it was like she had never been there." Vi bit her lip contemplatively, and there was an obvious sorrow emanating from her body.

"So you don't recall the appearance of the Batman?"

"Not at all."

"I'd suggest the details about the clowns are given to the police."

"Right…"

Bruce wasn't going to push her any further. But Batman was eager to visit Luna. She would have her own version of the story to tell, and one could only begin to imagine how she might justify abandoning her friend in danger. Of course, Vi did not have all of her memories in order either. Perhaps she knew less than she thought. He would have to agree, however, that from Vi's perspective, Luna didn't seem like a particularly loyal friend.


End file.
